“--so it’s good to know Travis is ignoring all of us and not just me, because I was starting to feel rejected.”

I blink and look up from my tray. Nicole is smirking at me.

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone. Just kind of spacing,” I say. I stab at the greasy chicken patty on my tray with a plastic fork. Two of the tines snap off. I stare at it for a second, then shove it away, disgusted.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Corey says. He fishes in his jeans for a penny to illustrate the point, but comes up empty. Miles slides one across the table, and Corey then presents it proudly to me. I take it from him and toss it on the chicken.

“Just home stuff. We moved into the new house yesterday. And I met Bill’s son,” I say. They all grimace in sympathy.

“How is he?” Faye asks. I shrug.

“I don’t really know him, but he seems…” Fifty thousand adjectives come to mind and I don’t want to say a single one of them. They wait though, so I finally finish, “fucking weird.”

Miles laughs. “Dude, welcome to the world of stepfamilies. You’ve got it kind of extreme though. I met Barbara and her kids way before she and my dad got married. They didn’t even move in together until we’d all known each other for like, five months.”

“No such luck here. I mean, I met Garen last night and my mom and Billy are already acting like we’re brothers. Which we’re obviously not,” I say. I pull my tray back towards me and stab the chicken with the fork’s one remaining tine. “If they were gonna get engaged, they would’ve already. You only move in with somebody like this when you don’t want to get engaged.”

“I don’t know. Becky’s mom and step dad lived together for a few months before they got engaged,” Faye says with a shrug. The remaining tine snaps off and I throw the fork handle across the cafeteria.

“Uh, I’m gonna go get a cookie. Give Trav-Trav here some time to cool down. Anyone up for making it a field trip?” he asks. Nicole and Miles both stand up and follow him back to the food, but Faye stays where she is.

“So. What’s he like?” she asks.

“Which one of them?” I ask.

“Garen. I know, weird, but like… how?” she says. I look over at the rest of the group. Nicole and Miles are trying to convince Corey to just pick something, but he’s making a federal case about it. I cross my arms and leans towards her across the table.

“Okay, he knows that we’re not going to be stepbrothers, and I know we’re not going to be stepbrothers. But he just… he acts like someone whose dad is dating my mom shouldn’t act. Stuff he says, stuff he does,” I say. Faye cocks her head to the side.

“Like what?” she asks. I sigh. Fuck it. I’m going to have to tell her, or she’s not going to get it.

“Last night. He said I was cute. Twice,” I say.

“Travis… you are cute.” She wrinkles her nose. “I mean that in a, you know, just-friends way. He probably did too.”“Okay. I’m marginally willing to believe you can explain that away. Even I can. So he said it a few times. No big deal, right? But it doesn’t stop there,” I say urgently. Faye raises her eyebrows.

“What else?” she asks.

“Um… this morning, he gave me a ride to school. And we were standing in the hall, near the office…” I stop. I have to. No way can I actually talk to anyone about this.

“What? What did he say?” she demands. I clear my throat and lean forward a little more.

“Well, I wouldn’t say he really said anything. It was more the fact that he bit my ear. In the middle of the hall. And not in a crazy-ass Mike Tyson way. In like, a sexual way,” I say. Faye stares at me for at least ten seconds before she clamps a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. “Fuck you! Don’t laugh!” I say. The laughter bubbles over and she collapses forward on the table. I shove her shoulder, and she leans back to look at me. It takes several more seconds for her to regain control. As soon as she does, however, I realize God hates me.

“Remember how you told me they’d stick me in fifth period Home Ec?” Garen asks, swinging one leg over the bench so he’s straddling it, facing me. I manage a glance at him. His eyes are wide open, not showing a trace of acknowledgement of the fact that four and half hours ago, his mouth was on my person. I look pointedly away

“Yeah,” I force out.

“Well, you were right. Remember how you said the blue stove sets itself on fire if you turn it on?” he continues.

“Yeah,” I repeat.

“And remember how I have self-control issues?” he says. My eyes snap back to his face. He’s biting his lower lip like he’s trying to stop a smile.

“Yeah,” I say. My voice cracks and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Well… the bad news is I have detention for the rest of the week. The good news is that they were able to put the fire out in under five minutes. The even better news is that they transfer me to Musical Theory starting tomorrow,” he says.

“Cool,” I say. I fix my gaze on the writing on the table. D.A. loves K.O. School sucks. Principal Hammond is a dick.

“What’s your deal?” Garen asks. I can hear the frown in his voice without looking up. I don’t reply, just keep reading the table. Blink 182 rox. I love you. Chelsea is a slutty bitch.

“Sorry. Garen Anderson.” I finally look up. He’s holding his hand out to Faye. She shakes it and glances at me, smiling.

“I know. Travis was just talking about you, actually. Faye Taylor,” she says. I glare at her and she grins back. Garen glances at me.

“You were talking about me? How cute. I’ll have to go get friends so I can talk about you to them too. In fact, I think I’ll go do that now. You need a ride home tonight?” he asks. I bite my thumb nail.

“I have track tonight. I normally just walk home in the afternoon ‘cause my schedule’s different every day. Work, track, shrink. You know the deal,” I say.

“So I’ll wait in the library and then drive you home after. Big deal,” Garen replies.

“You don’t have to, really,” I say.

“Travis.” The way he says my name makes me look at him, no matter how much I don’t want to. He holds my gaze for less than two seconds before standing up.

“I’ll be out front after your practice. Meet me there, okay? It was nice to meet you,” he adds to Faye before turning and walking quickly out of the cafeteria.

“So… it was kind of weird to watch your stepbrother hit on you,” Faye says slowly. I roll my eyes.

“Okay, first, he’s not my stepbrother. Second, he wasn’t hitting on me. I think. Wait, was he?” I let my head fall onto the table with a loud thud. “Ugh, it’s just so fucked up. His dad is dating my mom.”

“Well… do you like him?” Faye asks. I snap upright.

“Faye, are you missing a huge feature here? I’m not gay,” I say.

“I know, I know,” she says quickly. “I just wanted to make sure. I didn’t wanna say anything if that was like, an issue.”

“Wait, did you think it was an issue?” I ask. She shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant! I just wanted to make sure that there wasn’t something you were just hiding from us,” she says. Corey drops down onto the bench next to her and Nicole and Miles take their seats on either side of me.

“Okay, so it took ten minutes, but I got the best fucking cookie this school has ever seen. What do you think, Trav?” Corey says.

“Do I come off as gay?” I demand. Corey stares at me as he takes a bite of his cookie, chewing it very slowly.

“Um, no, but you do kind of come off as a crack addict for asking that. What the fuck, dude?” he says.

“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

“Why? Are you? Like, is this you coming out?” Nicole asks.

“No! Jesus Christ, no. I’m not gay. I just wanted to know,” I say.

“Faye… you’re not allowed to talk to Travis anymore, if leaving him alone with you gets him to ask shit like that,” Corey says.

“No, we can give her another chance. But if the next time we sit down, Travis asks if he should buy a pair of fuchsia pumps or something, Faye gets put in isolation,” Nicole says.

“I, on the other hand, will support Travis in everything he does, even if that means he’s wearing fuchsia pumps. But… you’ll have to take them off for track, man,” Miles says.

“’Cause she asked me during Calc what I thought you thought of her, and I said I’d find out,” Nicole explains.

“Oh yeah, I forgot we’re in third grade,” I say.

“Dude, you were getting play from girls in third grade? Man whore,” Corey says.

“Don’t get pissed at me just ‘cause I get more action than you do,” I say before taking a sip of my soda. Yeah. From your fucking almost-stepbrother. The thought makes me choke, and I’m quiet the rest of the period.

-

Over the next two weeks, I develop a system for avoiding Garen at all costs, most of which is just luck. We already have no classes together, and everyday he goes off-campus for lunch. He drives me to and from school, and the second the car is stopped, I’m out and heading for the building. One of the other cashiers at The Daily Grind was fired, so I end up working twice as much anyway. I don’t mind. Less time at home means less time alone with Garen. At home, I bury myself even deeper in my schoolwork and only come out of my room for meals. Usually.

“Garen!” I yell. I pound on the door. The only response is the music he’s blasting. I hit the door again. “Garen, you asshole, turn it down!” Nothing. I throw the door open. Garen is sitting at his computer, his back turned to me. I take two steps across the room before he reaches out and hits pause on the stereo.

“Are you studying?” he asks.

“No. My friends are coming over and I can hear this from all the way downstairs. I’d rather be able to hear them,” I say.

“I’ll turn it down if you stay and listen to one song,” he replies. I walk slowly over to his desk and he finally looks up at me. “You don’t listen to music, right? Well, I do. So we’ll both make a sacrifice.”

“It’s not like I hate music. I just don’t have time to listen to it,” I say. Garen shrugs.

“You’ve got time before your friends come over,” he says. I glance at the stereo again, then lean back against his desk and shrug. He almost smiles and turns back to the computer screen, reaching out blindly to the side and skipping a few songs before hitting play.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“The Perishers,” he says.

“What’s the song title?” I ask.

“Doesn’t matter. Just listen,” he replies. I shut up. After a few seconds, I remember that this is why I don’t like to listen to music. I’m so used to doing something that just standing here listening seems strange. I shift against the desk and look around the room. Garen’s room was made so it matches mine. Peach carpet, white walls. Every room upstairs is decorated that way, which is slightly disgusting. I had planned to do something with it so it was less annoying or boring or whatever, but -- all together now -- I never have the time. Garen, however, has put up posters all over the room, mostly of bands, some of movies. The ceiling light is off, and all of the light comes instead from a blue and silver floor lamp in the corner. The entire door is completely covered in photos he’s put up.

His bedroom door has more personality than everything of mine put together.

Looking around the room is mildly depressing, so I look around for something else to stare at. The only other thing is Garen. I realize now they I don’t think I’ve ever really looked at him much. His eyes are trained on the computer screen, so I figure now is as good a time as any.

He looks nothing like anyone I’ve ever seen. For one thing, the hair. I don’t think a single other person in Lakewood has hair like that. It’s dark brown, which is normal enough, but it’s the style that makes it weird. The way it sticks up in purposefully insane spikes. It’s wild, but not punk, because the spikes aren’t really clumps of hair gathered together; it’s just straightened hair sticking up all over his head in every direction. As I’m staring at it, he reaches up for the pieces in the front and starts re-twisting the spikes so they’re even straighter. For another thing, I’ve never seen eyes his color. I know people with green eyes, sure, but none that dark green. His look almost black, they’re so dark.

As if he can feel me staring, he turns to look at me.

“What?” he asks. I shake my head quickly.

“Nothing,” I say. The song ends on the stereo, and Garen immediately turns it down several clicks. The next song starts up. It’s slow, deep, dark. Sexy. The doorbell rings downstairs and I jump.

“Thanks for uh, for turning it down,” I say. Garen is still watching me, twisting the spikes with one hand. “I should… yeah.” I turn quickly and head for the door. Just barely in the hall, I hesitate and glance over my shoulder. My eyes lock with Garen’s for one, two, three, four seconds before the doorbell rings again and I shut the door behind myself. I hear the music go up another few clicks and mutter, “Asshole.”